


Sanguine Addiction

by DarkmoonBoar



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Blood Kink, Butch lesbian hunter, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, F/F, Headcanon, Kissing, Lesbian Character, Lesbian Sex, Menstruation, Menstruation Kink, Oneshot, Oops I made religion fucky, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Religious Guilt, Sex Talk, Vaginal Fingering, Younger brothers are shits, a little fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:29:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27228133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkmoonBoar/pseuds/DarkmoonBoar
Summary: Church Hunter Lucia goes to the Oedon Chapel in order to request an additional blood vial to help supplement her supply as the Hunt looms over the city.
Relationships: Adella/The Hunter (Bloodborne)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 11





	Sanguine Addiction

**Author's Note:**

> Definitely not beta'd, definitely the only draft, I have tried hard to work on this and well, I'll be honest, I feel like a fish out of water given I've never written femslash before (also, I'm a gay dude) and I did this out of spite because some homophobic asshole on twitter said that "you don't see gay men writing femslash so why is it okay for queer women to write mslash?" and well... spite is a great motivation and honestly, fuck that noise, enjoy some smutty Bloodborne femslash.
> 
> Also, this definitely takes place in the time line of my current Bloodborne fic. And yes, she technically belongs to the Vileblood but isn't a full Vileblood Vileblood like Adrian is, if that makes any sense. 
> 
> Also, I headcanon Bloodborne to take place in a sorta AU Europe if it isn't clear!

The brass on the heels of Lucia’s boots clopped against the masonry floor of Oedon Chapel as the clock tower bells tolled the new hour, the weight of both the Hunt and her family on her shoulders. Though it could hardly be considered late at eight o’ clock at night, most of the faithful had gone home and locked themselves in for the night. Though as pious and dedicated as she was to attending the Healing Church, she came not to worship, but to refill her blood vial supply. Between doing her duty to do patrols at night, and her literally bloodthirsty brother, she burned through them like matches. Honestly, she found herself surprised no one had said anything to her yet, given each hunter taken under the wing of the Church had their blood vial count watches closely, as to avoid blood drunkenness.

Surely, even at this hour, one of the Blood Saints or the nuns would be around to attend to her need as a hunter, marked as she was with their body-covering attire and the silver Ludwig’s Holy Sword strapped to her back. Even just one blood vial would be better than none, and at this point, she felt desperate, and not because she felt the “pull.” Rather, she simply had no desire to die on the next Hunt, and with the coming full blue moon, it would undoubtedly be a harrowing one. The more veteran hunters assured her of this, and with the way it resonated deep within her bones, she positively believed them.

Incense meant to ward the beasts and anointing oil used for holy rituals filled her nostrils. Even now with eight years of distance, it always sent her miles back home, to all those boring hours spent in church, learning the holy word. At least when she attended the Healing Church, she did so out of her own free will instead of essentially being forced by her father, lest she give him any more reason to complain after taking up working at the city docks. She didn’t miss all the threats that she needed to be a good girl, because, my God, what would the neighbors and the Church think?

At least the Healing Church never made her feel like a failure of a woman for not marrying, not having any interest in children, and wanting to wear pants, heaven forbid. In fact, she found many other hunters that were women who were much like herself that instead of being scorned, were treated with absolute respect, with the occasional glance of fear mixed with astonishment from younger men.

After wandering the halls, the sight of a black coat and white gloves offset by a long braid of black hair, caught her attention in one of the commons areas. _One of the Sisters, perhaps_ , she thought as she cleared her throat, and gently tapped the turned, shorter figure on the shoulder. In fact, this person, even ignoring her unusual height, looked to be fairly petite. 

S he pulled her leather mask down so her speech wouldn’t be muffled. The hunters wore them in part to protect against the scourge, since no one seemed to be quite sure how it worked and if it spread like consumption. After her brother came down with it, she wore it almost religiously,  and simply kept up  the habit.

Besides, getting a mouth full of foul beast blood was far from a pleasant experience.

“Excuse me,” she said in her resonant, flat voice with only a trace of her accent in the trilling of her r’s, “But do you know where I could find one of the nuns? I’m in need of blood vials.”

C alling the female clerics nuns always struck her as strange given they were nothing like the nuns she knew as a child.

T he smaller figure’s shoulders twitched at her touch,  as if restrain ed from jumping  at the sudden contact . They turned to face Lucia, looking her over and likely taking a moment to marvel at just how tall she stood  from her widening  chestnut  brown eyes.  True, she knew of a Black Church Hunter taller than herself, but as far as the Church women went… she stood the tallest by far at 6’8”. Of course, this also made her taller than most men, and definitely further encouraged the  more obnoxious ones to stay away from her.

“You’re speaking to one, dear lady hunter,” the Blood Saint replied in a demure voice, her lips curled in a warm smile. Indeed, she looked saintly in the candle light, her skin almost glowing like a halo, her face benevolent and pure. In her presence, the tall, broad-shouldered hunter felt infinitesimal, a mere ant crawling across the cobblestone for the crumbs of a wafer. A twinge of guilt struck her, that old familiar deep-seated leaden guilt, then she shook herself out of it. 

L ucia grit her teeth and sighed. The nun meant well, but she  _hated_ being called that word, and treated “girl” much with the same distaste.  Perhaps it was the disconnect she felt with femininity, perhaps it was the infantilization, perhaps it was the  oppressive  weight and trauma they carried  with them .  “I  would prefer to not be called ‘lady’ , Sister,” she replied, awkwardly rubbing her forearms as she crossed her arms  as the feeling of discomfort sank in her  intestines .

“My deepest apologies then, Good Hunter,” the nun responded gently after stifling a small giggle, clasping her gloved hands together, “I can procure you a blood vial if you’ll give me a moment.”

As the Blood Saint turned her back to Lucia again, and before she could disappear into the next room,  the nun said over her shoulder, “ You may call me Adella ,  gentle hunter .  I’ve seen you around the Ward  and in the chapel numerous times but I don’t think we’ve ever actually spoken until now.”

“No, I do not believe we have,” she replied as she adjusted her hat, always unsure if she should take it off in the Healing Church. Even after eight years, some things about Yharnam eluded her, and as such she couldn’t really blame that Adrian couldn’t quite assimilate, with his thick accent that always outed him as an immigrant and the way he just didn’t seem to understand the Healing Church despite working under it in the clinic before he fell ill. Not that he fared better as a hunter when she trained him, a thing she now sorely regretted…

Realizing her breach of etiquette, she added  without prompting , “ Ah, I forget myself. M y name is Lucia.”  Sheepish, she took off her hat that effectively kept her shoulder-length curls out of her face and rested it against her chest,  then gave a slight hunter’s bow . Unlike her brother, she refused to put  her hair in a bun or ponytail.  She ran the other gloved hand through her ringlets, almost feeling naked and exposed between the mask at her neck and the removed hat.  But, now, at least, they were equally vulnerable.

“Oh, is that how you pronounce it? I’ve known your name for a while, given some of the other hunters gossip, but they’ve always pronounced it with an s sound,” the Blood Saint replied with raised eyebrows, stepping slightly closer to the hunter and still looking up with her a smile that pulled more at her lips. It had Lucia narrow her eyes just a smidge, unsure of the motives of the nun in front of her. Between the way she looked up at her, and how her fingers fidgeted just a little…

“Well, it’s not exactly a well-kept secret I’m not from here, if you couldn’t tell just from the way I talk,” the hunter replied with a voice that, at first, started up higher as she found herself a bit flustered, hoping she wasn’t reading into something there wasn’t there. Dammit, she was too old to find herself stumbling over her words over like this, like she hadn’t herself left young women in the port city they hailed from similarly tongue-tied. She had just been alone too long, fretting over her younger brother that was very much still her baby brother and even more like a brooding teenager now despite him being twenty-five going on twenty-six. 

( S ometimes, she wondered if it wasn’t all her fault, if his constant acting out wasn’t  the final consequence of ending their father right in front of his eyes and the subsequent mess that followed. He hadn’t really been the same since that night. What didn’t kill him made him weirder.)

At least she didn’t gesticulate nearly as much as him, the gigantic ham that he was, then she would _really_ stand out. Yharnamites were reserved and conservative in comparison. The thought she might be more obvious an outsider than she previously thought had her draw her shoulders in. No longer feeling quite as safe, and with a proper introduction finished, she donned the hat again. Her insides felt tied into an unyielding knot.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to make you self-conscious,” Adella replied after a pitying suck of air through her teeth, “Your accent is enchanting.” The cheerful, coy, even, flickering smile and the palm against Adella’s face told her everything. Lucia relaxed her shoulders somewhat, between her apology and the fact she made her intentions clearer.

“Well, I’m glad at least someone feels that way,” she chuckled, relieving more of the tension in her body. “Are you this familiar with every hunter?” Leaning against the wall, she watched the Blood Saint with her keen hazel eyes, a grin alight on her normally stoic, if not somewhat grim, face. Then, she folded her arms, well aware that even through her coat, one could tell she had muscular arms, something she definitely needed when she worked the docks and now when it came to dealing with beasts larger than your average man. Some hunters relied on their dexterity; she used her brute strength and cunning. 

“No, some of them are a bit…” Hesitation bloomed in her voice, as if she wanted to be polite about an awful truth.

“It’s okay, you can say some of them are ill-mannered beasts stuffed into a coat and hat. I won’t be offended,” Lucia laughed, thinking of all the times the hunters around her spat on the ground, growled during the hunt, and simply forgot any modicum of manners when interacting with other people as if, somehow, in their line of duty to protect, they forgot what it meant to be human. Though, some hunters did turn, or did lose themselves to the blood…

A della made a small noise in the back of her throat and grimaced before replying, “I had been thinking of something a bit more tactful.”

“Eh, why waste tact? Hunters are only human, and some of us are right shits, if you’ll pardon my vulgarity. Sure, we keep the town safe, but not all of us are _good people_ ,” Lucia replied nonchalantly with a shrug of her shoulders. Sure, she felt pride to be a Church hunter. Sure, she enjoyed the camaraderie she had with many of the other hunters, but it didn’t mean she had to like all of them as people. It was wild navigating the hatred Yharnam had for outsiders and the almost canonization of the Church hunters. 

“You don’t strike me as being so rotten.”

L ucia paused and looked at the nun before her, a woman that hardly knew her, and yet the first impression actually had her feeling decent about herself.  Maybe she should stop hesitating, wondering if what she wanted to do was “right,” when the woman in front of her clearly  more than enjoyed her company.  She had never heard of anyone in the Healing Church having to take a vow of celibacy, and they had no taboos against love or sex between people of the same gender. Why, then, did she feel  apprehension ? 

“No, but I have been told I have a big mouth for a woman and that I’m unsuitable for marriage.” Perhaps it was because Lucia said it so flatly and with such a deadpan expression, but it had Adella openly belly laugh. The response had the hunter blinking, forehead furrowed, and bewildered by the response as the Blood Saint wiped away tears and struggled to compose herself. Her laughing became ugly, gasping croaking as she tried to stop.

With almost all of her face scarlet pink , once she could finally speak, Adella  rasped , “ Oedon’s breath!  And to think we’ve never spoken before… quite a shame, really.” 

Lucia shifted her weight, placing both of her feet firmly on the floor. With a slow, but confident gait, as if approaching a doe, the hunter moved until they were mere inches apart.  And the way Adella looked up at her, innocent yet clearly yearning with her heavy breath, only made her brown eyes look larger. The hunter paused, an unusual hitch in her voice as she felt flooded with desire and shame.

“Tell me, my dear, beautiful Sister, will you allow one lonely hunter a small kiss in exchange for your blood, or is this forbidden?” The distance between the two felt impenetrable and turbulent.

After a deep, shuddering breath, the Blood Saint answered, not a moment too soon, in a voice barely above a breathy whisper.

“Please.”

Lucia gently cupped the shorter woman’s left cheek with one hand as she leaned downward, placing the other around her as she laid gentle lips on hers, hungry yet restrained. Adella’s response felt positively electric, sighing against the hunter’s lips and wrapping her arms around her eagerly. The Hunter pulled away, just for a moment, tilting her head up via her chin, only to plant another kiss, this time firmly, more confident against Adella’s petal soft lips. She felt so warm and  _good_ against her, and  entirely forgot they were still in the Chapel, granted not in the main hall.

T he way the Blood Saint giggled and moaned against her lips, only to invitingly part them broke what little thread of modesty Lucia hung onto. Adella squeezed one of her upper arms as the hunter tasted her mouth, though avoided far too much tongue. The other hand tentatively glided over one of her buttocks. Opening her eyes, the hunter broke the kiss again, to look down at the flushed nun.

So she was getting brave, then.

The Blood Saint began to back up, leaning against the edge of a table  and panting. Her eyes darted around, and mouth remained parted, as if searching for her words, as if searching for a way to articulate what she really desired.

“I…want you, but…”

“...You’ve not been with _anyone_ , have you?”

Adella gazed up at her and slowly  shook her head as the hunter stroked her cheek.

“I’m always gentle… unless you do not want me to be. Now, this is something you want, am I right?”

“Yes,” she answered almost immediately after Lucia inflected her voice to indicate a question.

A smile tugged at Lucia’s mouth as she pressed a kiss to the Blood Saint’s forehead, before removing the black shawl from her shoulders and the white fabric in front of her top, placing them on the table. Then, she worked at the laces tying it all together, alternating her gaze from Adella’s intensely blushing face and the holy clothing in front of her.

“You’re awfully fast at this,” the Blood Saint remarked as Lucia continued her task, her desire growing as she loosened the criss-crossed ties to help with her task.

“Well, I had plenty of practice undoing, what do you call them in English? Corsets,” the hunter chirped back wryly with a smile as she began to see the skin beneath. 

Not before long, she had it open enough in expose Adella’s neck,  which she delighted in covering with kisses, going from where it met the nun’s jaw down to her clavicles. Then, she moved the dark fabric down further to reveal the Blood Saint’s breasts. As her skin pricked with goosebumps, Lucia kissed along her skin, further and further down, until she reached a rosy, pert nipple and gave it a small suck.

Adella let out a tiny gasp, letting her head fall on her own shoulders as the hunter cradled the other one before delicately  and rhythmically squeezing right behind the areola.  Using her tongue, she pressed into and against the erect nipple before suckling on it again. Lucia closed her eyes, and felt fingernails in her scalp  underneath her hat.

Lucia pulled back just to throw the thing on the table, then stared into Adella’s eyes for a moment, her entire body consumed by lust  and in turn, wanting to consume the dainty Blood Saint with her mouth. She swallowed hard,  feeling like her desire had balled up in the back of her throat,  before kissing Adella’s soft stomach .

“Sit on the table and pull up your skirts for me, _cara_ ,” she said in a husky voice, as restrained as she could with the heat building up inside her.

Adella lifted up all the layers of her skirt, from the black top to the couple of white underskirts that made her Healing Church outfit more modest than showy. Of course, beneath, she still wore white bloomers, a layer between her sex and Lucia. 

Pressing kisses to the insides of the nun’s thighs, the hunter pulled them off, minding Adella’s shoes on the way down. 

Looking up at the quivering Blood Saint, she realized, in the candlelight, she bled, the faint,  pretty red glistening on her  reddened labia.

And rather than hesitating, it awakened a primal desire in her, one she couldn’t quite place beyond she felt it on the hunt, to consume the holiest of mediums.

She took her right glove off, and placed it beside her hunter’s hat. Then, she teasingly licked along the inner labia, watching Adella’s legs twitch and shake as she would get closer to her engorged clitoris before moving away from it. She tasted of copper and sweet musk. Then, she wriggled her hot tongue into the Blood Saint’s cunt in order to get more of the menstrual blood, relishing at the squirming and mewling  Adella rewarded her with .

“Ah… Lucia…” the nun purred, digging her fingertips back into the hunter’s curly hair.

I t spurned her on. She traveled upwards with her mouth, while using her paired right index and middle fingers to gently probe at Adella’s sex. As she placed lips around the clit, Lucia slowly inserted them, searching for the spongy bump inside the velvety wet warmth. When she found it, she pressed into it as her tongue began to bounce the pink pearl in her mouth.

The thighs at the side of her head nearly closed around her, and the fingers pulled at her hair. Laughing, her breath hot against Adella, the hunter continued to suck and lick her clitoris while using the fingers inside to fuck her. The room filled with the Blood Saint’s whimpers and moans.  If anyone else was in the Chapel, they’d almost certainly hear the two of them.

Looking down at Lucia, the Sister gasped, “ Gods above, your mouth feels  divine .” Her hips gently rocked into the hunter against the lathing of her tongue and the crooking of her fingers.  At the side of her head, the nun’s legs began to shake again.

The blood in her mouth made her feel almost dazed,  like something began to take over . More, more, she wanted  _more_ .

“You taste so damn good. I could eat your pussy all night.”

The hunter withdrew her fingers, licking the blood off them before reinserting them, feeling the muscles around her fingers contract in response to their dancing.  Her lips and tongue went back to the previous spot, teasing and pleasuring Adella’s clit. In her peripheral, she noticed how the Blood Saint’s feet bobbled up and down before staying at a downward incline  and she had began to play with her own breasts.

Her noises grew louder in volume, and her squirming only intensified in magnitude as she continued, and the hunter found herself pleased that she could still do this  so skillfully.

When she felt Adella go almost rigid, and saw that braided head go back, Lucia’s tongue only quickened, lapping at the underside, then the hood. Her fingers only quickened their squeezing against her sweet spot as the muscles around her became tighter, tighter, tighter…

She felt a gush of liquid  around her fingers, and the Blood Saint gasped loudly, almost shouting as she orgasmed. Her legs twitched on the table almost uncontrollably, though luckily avoided hitting the hunter between her legs.  Lucia gave her pulsing clit one last lick before retreating, fingers and all, her own breath heavy.

“Have I left you satisfied?” the hunter grinned, licking her fingers again. Maybe there _was_ something to the idea that blood could be addictive after all, with the way she found herself thirsting for it.

With a sigh, the still exposed Blood Saint replied, “In a way I haven’t felt before, stars above.”

“Good, then, I’ll help you get redressed before you get me that vial and I can go about my way. But I promise… I will return for you. Often.”

Still crimson-faced, the Sister flashed her a dazed smile.

After getting all her clothing back on and going to another room to get her the promised blood vial, Adella returned to find Lucia wiping off her mouth with a white handkerchief,  her hat back on her head, and both her hands in gloves.

Placing the vial full of deep red liquid into the  larger palms of the hunter, the Blood Saint caressed  the back of the gloved hands.

“Return soon, and good night, gentle hunter Lucia.” 

Lucia kissed her forehead, giving her a half-body hug  that the Blood Saint returned.

“Of course. Good night.” 

Later that night, when she finally returned home with a slightly bouncier step, she could tell from outside a candle had been lit. Unlocking the door to her shovel of a home, she opened it to find Adrian sitting cross-legging on their sofa, straight up and in his dressing gown, reading a book that he promptly shut. He looked up from the book with his sable eyes, cocking one of his eyebrows and parting his thin lips into a smug,  toothy  smile, the point of his fangs showing. Of course, at this hour, he hadn’t bothered to put up his hair, so his chocolate brown coils trailed all the way down his back.

“You got a bit of blood on your chin, sister dearest,” he half-chuckled, his chest thrumming, tapping his own cleft chin. His smile became wider, as if to say he _knew_ what she had been doing. More of his recent, insufferable behavior, as if someone had come along and replaced her brother with a demon hellbent on being as contrary as possible. Or that he become possessed with something foul, which she found herself occasionally believing with the way he spoke of this old, forbidden place called Cainhurst and how he had just… grown a full half feet taller suddenly.

Though, he had stopped after she told her to drop the subject  when he said he wanted to be a family again. Something about it stung horribly  and she didn’t know if she felt betrayed or not .

Not sure whether to glare daggers between his  almost condescending tone and his obnoxious smirk, she replied, “Oh, thank you  for pointing that out, Adrian. Why, exactly, are you up  when you’re always in bed so early ?”

He sniffed as she took a handkerchief to her chin and rubbed until the small bit of darkened, browned blood came off.  His eyes lingered on her, making her feel bare. How exactly had he spotted that so quickly?

“I couldn’t sleep. Been having really terrible dreams lately,” he replied, his nose back into the book, making clicking noises with his tongue against the roof of his mouth. It was one of his many books on the study of plants, a fascination of his he’d had since his childhood, and was perhaps the few signs he was still buried somewhere inside there. Still, she loved him, even if these days his behavior hurt her more and more, going from quiet and timid to something terrifyingly bold and loud.

And sometimes she saw their dead old father when she looked at him, staring straight back at her as if to mock her for failing to truly kill him after all. But, then she’d look back, and see the smallest glimmer of that remarkably gentle boy that would cry when she punched him.

“Hmm, well. It will be a full moon soon. There’s some chamomile somewhere, is there not? I could make both of us some tea.”

Closing the book and setting it beside him, he didn’t need to think much on the offer before he yawned, “Alright, I suppose I could go for some.”

In a drafty, small home in Central Yharnam, the two siblings bonded over their cups of chamomile tea in the dead of night.


End file.
